GOOD MORNING (Ozu, 1959)
Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date May 16, 1959
Review by Christopher S. Long
As an adult who remains baffled by the
ubiquitous small talk that comprises most social interactions, I can
empathize strongly with the young protagonists of Yasujiro Ozu's
“Good Morning” (1959). After thirteen-year-old Minoru and
seven-year-old Isamu brattily demand their parents buy a television
so they can watch sumo wrestling and baseball, their father (Ozu
stalwart Chishu Ryu) scolds them for their sassy backtalk. A petulant
Minoru retorts that adults spend all their time saying stupid things
like “Good morning” (and “No, you can't have a TV!”) and
enlists his little brother in a vow of total silence until they get
their television and, perhaps, until the adults understand just how
absurd their constant prattle sounds.
The boys' refusal to observe the
expected social niceties and to comply with the inherent power
structure between generations sets off a chain reaction in their tiny
suburban neighborhood. Gossipy housewives, who, like everyone,
consider themselves the main characters in the story, take the boys'
rudeness as a personal rebuke, and more specifically as a sign of
their parents' haughtiness. Their mother thinks she's better than us?
Well, we'll show her!
The neighborhood's delicate social
structure shakes, but never comes particularly close to collapsing in
one this lightly comic offering from Ozu. And the boys' blinkered but
sincere perspective ultimately underscores the significance of the
insignificant interactions they protest. The content may be
superficial, but the form of a “Good morning” or “This weather
sure is crazy” is essential to enable humans to live together in
relative harmony. Sometimes it even opens the door for far more
intimate exchanges.
I point all of this out mostly because
I wanted to become one of the very few critics ever to make it to the
fourth paragraph of a review of “Good Morning” without talking
about farts. Fart jokes may not be the first thing that spring to
mind when you think of the director of “Tokyo Story” (1953) and
“An Autumn Afternoon” (1962) but farts (huh huh, he said “but
farts”) grease the social skids as surely as any other form of
communication in this film. The boys' ability to fart on command
(indicating by peppery musical toots on the soundtrack) assures their
place in the playground pecking order, and at least one of their
fathers takes great pride in his firm and resonant tuba-farts that
repeatedly trick his poor wife into thinking he's calling for her.
It's tempting, at least for me, to
think that Ozu is suggesting that no matter what orifice we use to
communicate we're really all just talking out our asses, but he's
much more appreciative of the nuances of daily social interaction
than I am. Ozu and co-writer Kogo Noda have an uncanny knack for
depicting complex, dynamic characters in just a few seconds of
screentime; even the shameless gossips aren't allowed to turn into
one-dimensional shrews. People are cranky when they think they've
been treated unfairly, sunny when they're getting a fair shake,
confident in private, and more tentative in less-controlled social
situations. Even a romantic subplot between an unemployed teacher and
his neighbor feels fully realized despite only being glimpsed
intermittently, and pays off in a final scene which is a gentle but
full-blast ode to the beauty and vitality of small talk.
Ozu veterans might except Chishu Ryu to
dominate the film, but Ozu gives his young stars ample room to shine,
and wisely returns over and over to the little miracle he discovered
in young Masahiko Shimazu, who plays Isamu. His chubby face with its
awkwardly proportioned features plays like a live-action cartoon, and
his exaggerated gestures echo the perfect calibration of a silent
comedian. And he can fart like a champ.
Periodic cuts to meticulously composed
shots of the neighborhood's modest buildings, usually arranged in
sharp diagonals, remind the viewer that it doesn't take a big (or
naked) city to generate eight million stories. The film even ends by
spotlighting a previously minor character, the one boy whose flailing
attempts at flatulence end in disappointment, not to mention extra
laundry for his confused and irritated mother. As the boy sits there
brokenhearted, Ozu gleefully cuts to one final visual joke, a
clothesline full of underwear just flapping away in the cool breeze.
Video:
Criterion released “Good Morning”
on a bare-bones DVD way back in another century (Aug 22, 2000), and
while I don't have that one for a point of reference, most reports
describe the old transfer as one of their weaker ones.
Never fear. This 1080p upgrade, sourced
from a 4K digital restoration, renders the film in sharp detail with
a bright but never garish color palette. Close-ups really show off
the detail in this high-def transfer which should make fans quite
happy.
Audio:
The linear PCM mono track is sharp,
like just about every Criterion release. Toshiro Mayuzumi's jaunty
score can't help but remind listeners of Jacques Tati, and it sounds
quite good on this lossless audio. Optional English subtitles support
the Japanese dialogue.
Extras:
Cinephiles recognize David Bordwell as
one of the most insightful film scholars still writing today.
Bordwell helped to popularize the application of Vladmir Propp's
narrative analysis in film studies and is renowned for his close
stylistic breakdowns of art-house enigmas and Hong Kong action films.
In a new 2017 interview (19 min.) recorded for the Criterion
Collection, David Bordwell finally gets to talk about farts. Few
could be more eloquent.
Except maybe David Cairns who aptly
describes “Good Morning” as “Ozu's fartiest film” in
“Transcendental Style and Flatulence” (17 min.) Cairns also
touches on a few non-flatulent topics, as does Bordwell.
Criterion has also included a high-def
upgrade of Ozu's 1932 silent film “I Was Born, But...” (90 min.),
also included on the “Silent Ozu” set from what appears now to be
Criterion's defunct Eclipse line. “Good Morning” is often
described as a remake of “I Was Born, But..” as the earlier film
also features two children who go on a strike (hunger strike this
time) to express their frustration with the adult world. However, the
two films are considerably different, with “Good Morning” being
the much lighter of the two.
The disc also includes the 14 surviving
minutes of Ozu's 1929 silent film “A Straightforward Boy.” This
is an odd semi-comedy in which the title boy gets kidnapped, but
turns the tables on his shady kidnapper – it ends with children
pursuing the kidnapper, eager to get the same treatment he gave to
the title boy which is... kinda weird.
The slim fold-out insert booklet
includes an essay by critic Jonathan Rosenbaum, who also talks about
farts, but not as extensively as in the video features on the disc.
Final Thoughts:
It's easy to dismiss “Good Morning”
as a slight entry in the Ozu canon, but even the gentlest of comedies
can still provide profound insights. The film convincingly captures
the daily rhythms of a small neighborhood, and penetrates deeply to
see what makes it work and what threatened to tear it all apart at
the seams. With the inclusion of “I Was Born, But...” as an
extra, this is a significant upgrade over the old SD release and a
must-own for Ozu fans.
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